Empty Chairs At Empty Tables
by Unintended Harmony
Summary: Songfic from Les Miserables. The final battle is over. There have been deaths. Ron Weasly reflects in a pub, where his friends will sing no more...


**This is just a random oneshot songfic I thought up while listening to Les Mis. I hope you like it! Everything in italics is either a memory or song lyrics. If it says Flashback above it, it's a memory. If not, it's part of the song.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the song Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Misérables.**

**Empty Chairs At Empty Tables**

Ron Weasly sat in what was left of The Three Broomsticks. Almost everything had been destroyed… including his friends. Lord Voldemort still walked freely. All their deaths were in vain.

He looked over at a table in the corner. He, Harry and Hermione had spent many an afternoon there. Ron could almost still hear them laughing…

Neville Longbottom was the first to leave them. While completely uncoordinated and terrified, he was determined as hell to prove that he was worth something.

_Flashback_

_It was the middle of January when a band of Death Eaters were attacking St. Mungo's. Neville was there visiting his parents. Lucius Malfoy was the first one he could make out._

"_C-C-Cruci," Neville choked. But Lucius beat him to it._

"_Avada Kedavara" he yelled. The light vanished from Neville's eyes as he looked at his parents lying there, practically dead already…_

Ron let out a deep sigh as he thought about it. The chair Neville would sit in was now empty. He didn't even want to think about Harry's death. Harry was truly ready to defeat Voldemort… he was ready to complete the prophecy.

_Flashback_

_One cannot live while the other survives. The Dark Lord proved that. He had begun to weaken, making him easier pickings for Harry. His wand was malfunctioning, and everything seemed like it would turn out all right for the trio. That was where Harry was truly wrong. He didn't see the broomstick on the floor…_

Ron could still hear the way he yelled, the _whoosh_ of the broom as it cracked into his best mate's skull. He remembered thinking that it couldn't end that way. That Harry couldn't be dead… He didn't want to run, but what choice did he have? Harry's body was left behind. The only thing keeping Ron from dying himself out of grief and guilt was the thought of Harry meeting his parents… for the very first time.

As he thought of Hermione's demise, he had to hold back tears. It was his fault she was gone…

_Flashback_

_"God, Hermione, the things you do," he had said. She had disguised herself as a man and made her way into the heart of Hogwarts castle where Ron led the others to barricade themselves, prepared for battle. Ron hadn't seen his mother in over six months and all owls had been intercepted._

_"Get out of here before the battle starts." He said._

_"No, I want to help!" she said desperately. He wracked his brain for anything that she could do. He then remembered the note in his pocket._

_"Wait, there's a way you can help me 'Mione." He said, pulling out the piece of parchment. Hermione looked hopeful. "Take this to me mum." He said, folding it into her hands. She nodded before he pulled her into a loving embrace._

_Hermione ran out of the castle as fast as she possibly could. To get to The Burrow from Hogwarts, she had to go through a Muggle town. She walked carefully through the cobblestone streets. The Muggles were under attack just as much as wizards were. They used any form of defense necessary, including guns._

_As she made her way to the town square, a male voice broke through the silence._

_"ENEMY SPOTTED!" it yelled. Gunshots cut through the night air like knives. As Hermione fell to the ground, rain began to fall…_

The tears spilled over Ron's eyes. Everything came flooding back to him. The first time he kissed her, the first time they made love, everything… If he hadn't told her to take that letter, if he had let her stay with him, he knew she would still be here. He glanced at the table once more, thinking of all the times they had laughed there, never to laugh again. Never to laugh, never to sing. Ron was the only one left to sing for them…

"_There's a grief that can't be spoken_

_There's a pain goes on and on_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Now my friends are dead and gone_

_Here they spoke of revolution_

_Here it was they lit the flame_

_Here they sang about tomorrow_

_And tomorrow never came_

_From the table in the corner_

_They could see a world reborn_

_And they rose with voices ringing_

_And I can hear them now_

_The very words that they had sung_

_Became their last communion_

_On a lonely barricade_

_At dawn_

_Oh my friends, my friends forgive me_

_That I live and you are gone_

_There's a grief that can't be spoken_

_There's a pain goes on and on_

_Phantom faces at the window_

_Phantom shadows on the floor_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will meet no more_

_Oh my friends, my friends! Don't ask me,_

_What your sacrifice was for_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my friends will sing_

_No more…"_

He sat down at the table. The second he touched the chair, he wished he was dead. Looking around the destroyed pub, he saw a forgotten pistol lying on the ground. He stood up and saw that there was one bullet left. As he picked it up, he fearfully put the barrel to his head. Glancing back at the table one last time, he smiled at the empty chairs.

He pulled the trigger.

The chairs still were empty. And now they always would be.

**Fin. Review please!**


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